


Dead Man's Float

by frankie_felony (dextrosinistral)



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Coulson has the patience of a saint, First Kiss, M/M, Pool Hottie Coulson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-18
Updated: 2012-09-18
Packaged: 2017-11-14 11:53:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dextrosinistral/pseuds/frankie_felony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint can escape from any terrible situation, as long as it doesn't involve water.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Man's Float

**Author's Note:**

> There will NEVER be too much pool!hottie Coulson.
> 
> usual disclaimers: these characters are copyright their creators. I only put them in odd scenarios for shits and giggles

"Why do I have to do swimming?" Clint groaned. "I can sort of do a jellyfish float, is that not enough?"

"Of course not," said Natasha, suppressing a laugh. "You have to not drown, and I'm pretty sure that if you don't do this you're going to be the only SHIELD agent who _can't_ swim. Just go do it. You'll be fine." She tossed a folded-up piece of spandex at his head. "Or you'll drown, and then I'm going through your shit and taking all of the good stuff."

He caught what she threw at him and un-balled it. "I have to wear _this_?"

"Standard-issue swim briefs, Clint, unless you want to go find and buy a pair of your own in the next ten minutes – which is not likely." She arched an eyebrow. "I know it's not your fault you never learned to swim, but you never know when you're going to find yourself in a situation where you need that skill."

"Fine." He stuffed the offending garment into his bag and headed out to get to his first lesson on time. Maybe those hot, super-buff, fitness-obsessed agents would be practising today. He brightened at the thought. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all. SHIELD _did_ have an unusually high percentage of ridiculously attractive employees.

He made it to the pool itself with just a minute to spare and cast a glance around. It was mostly empty, which was a bit disappointing (or incredibly disappointing, he wasn't sure). He wasn't sure who he was meeting up with for this thing. He stood near the edge of the pool and took a moment to see who was there, who might be serving as his instructor.

There was someone he couldn't identify for a moment cutting through one of the lanes, and Clint was glad he'd learned to keep his cool in any situation when the swimmer's head broke the water and he was suddenly making eye contact with Coulson. Oh, he wasn't sure he could handle being here now; he'd had a number of fantasies involving a mostly- or fully-naked Coulson in his bed and—he needed to stop that train of thought before it went somewhere embarrassing.

He stared, half sure his mouth was just hanging agape, as Coulson got to the edge of the pool. He could see the muscles working in Coulson's shoulders as he climbed the ladder and planted himself on the concrete. He walked around the pool to near where Clint was standing, still watching him. "Good, you're on time. I was concerned you weren't even going to show up."

Clint just nodded dumbly, willing his brain to catch up to what was going on. _Coulson_ was going to be working with him? Clint had thought his imagination was good, but he was way off on what he'd thought Coulson would look like mostly naked. And wet. Coulson wasn't all muscle, Clint hadn't ever expected that, but he wasn't as soft as Clint had pictured, either.

Oh, he was in trouble. How the hell would he make it through the next hour?

"Uh. Of course I showed up. Not drowning is important, isn't it? Might as well get that down sooner than later." Then he realised. "Wait, _you're_ working with me? Why not one of the PT guys or something? I'm not complaining, but... isn't this related to their job? Or shouldn't I have, like, a certified instructor? And don't you have paperwork to do?"

"No one from physical therapy will work with you after your last incident, Barton, and it happens that I used to teach swimming lessons. Get in the pool."

Clint sighed dramatically, mostly just for effect, and climbed into the pool. "It's fucking cold!"

"You'll get used to it in a minute." Coulson's voice was suddenly right behind him, and Clint jumped at the sound. He heard Coulson laugh, then felt the hand on his shoulder like a jolt. "This isn't going to be a terrible experience. Swimming can be fun. Let's go."

Clint certainly didn't expect that there would be so much _touching_ involved in learning to swim, but he guessed that he probably deserved this sexually frustrating punishment for having avoided learning and almost drowning two weeks ago as a result. Coulson told him his form was terrible every five minutes, it seemed, but he didn't seem upset about it – more amused than anything, Clint would guess.

It probably didn't help that he was being stubborn about this whole thing because he didn't really _want_ to learn to swim. He didn't particularly want to be relegated to drowning, either, but the prospect of spending a number of hours every week in the pool until he could prove that he was proficient enough to survive was really unappealing.

Worse, Coulson was relentless. For a moment, Clint entertained the idea that this could possibly be how Coulson did everything, but he filed that away for later. It didn't seem like swimming and erections would pair well together, and he could really do without his long-standing crush on his handler becoming public knowledge. Even as empty as the pool was, he didn't trust that someone (namely, Coulson) wouldn't notice and call him out on his shit.

Clint was exhausted by the end of the hour, almost too much to notice Coulson's hand resting low on his back even after they'd cleared the pool and made their way a few feet from its edge. Almost. Heat raced up his spine, and his skin prickled.

"S-sir," he started, but his mouth went dry when Coulson turned to face him, his hand still not moving, and was in much closer proximity than Clint thought was professional.

"You should consider swimming as a recreational activity, not just a survival one," Coulson said, smiling.

Clint finally found his voice. "Are you teasing me, Coulson? Because if you are, this is about to get categorically unprofessional."

"Don't think I haven't noticed the hints you've been dropping, Barton, or the excessively suggestive tone your e-mails take."

Clint frowned. "Yeah, well, stealth and cunning weren't working." He took a deep breath and turned further to Coulson. "You might have to write me up for this." He cut a glance around the still mostly-empty pool, and then kissed Coulson, satisfied that no one was really watching.

He steeled himself for immediate rejection, but Coulson's lips were soft and warm, and it was hard to not cuddle into that muscular chest. It felt like a long moment before anything happened, but then Coulson's hand tightened on his back and he was returning the kiss with barely-restrained passion.

Clint brought one hand up to rest on Coulson's shoulder and exhaled softly. "Can we... can we take this somewhere more private?" he asked, shifting a little. He felt himself flushing, tried to control himself before he got embarrassed.

Coulson laughed again, and this time Clint was close enough to feel him shake with it. "I have paperwork to catch up on, Barton, so unless you're offering to make yourself useful and properly write all of your reports up so I don't have to do your job for you... "

"If that's what it takes, sir." Clint stepped back reluctantly. "I'll go get myself together, then."

"I'll see you in my office in half an hour."


End file.
